


The Indirect Route

by sonicmadgirl



Series: Jon's Photo Album [3]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: I'm Sorry For The Wait - Again, M/M, Yet More Implied Crushing, photographer!jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicmadgirl/pseuds/sonicmadgirl
Summary: Sometimes, Jon thought, the indirect route was the better one.After all, if you never REALLY did something, how could anyone tell you off for doing it?A nice little look into the beginning of Jon and Matt's friendship, that might just be added onto at some other point.Enjoy!





	The Indirect Route

Sometimes, Jon thought, the indirect route was the better one.  
After all, if you never REALLY did something, how could anyone tell you off for doing it? It was how Jon got away with a lot of things.  
If Mark had a tub of ice cream, then if it just fell out of the freezer, and Jon got some on his hands putting it back in the freezer, had he really stolen a bit of ice cream?  
If Eduardo's show was on the adverts, then how was Jon supposed to know he'd been watching something when he changed the channel? Easy answer - he wasn't! And couldn't be blamed for it!

Yes, it was a bit tricky of him, but at least he used the indirect route! The direct route led to just plain being rude, and rude was something Jon didn't like to be.

The indirect route was also how he got a lot of his photos, but that was neither here nor there in his thoughts.  
What mattered was how he planned to use it next.

When he looked out of his bedroom window, there was Matt's window. He didn't know Matt very well, since Matt lived with Edd, and Eduardo didn't want to have anything to do with Edd. Or, well, that was what he SAID. Whether he meant it was another matter.

Matt hadn't been well the last few days, which meant Jon had seen rather a lot of him, shuffling about his room to put tissues in the bin -or as close as he could get them, which was admittedly not very close- or to fetch lunch to eat in bed. It would be nice if he could tell Matt that he hoped he got better soon, brought him soup or a blanket or something else nice, perhaps flowers - did Matt like flowers? Further research needed on that, maybe he'd ask his best friend at some point, he knew a lot about Matt - but he knew that wasn't an option. Eduardo would kill him if he went 'fraternising with the enemy'.

...Then again, if he was sneaky about it, Eduardo never needed to know.  
Awkward as Eduardo was - and much as Jon loved him he WAS awkward - there was one thing Jon was very thankful he was stubborn about; privacy.

Privacy meant Eduardo didn't come barging into his room unless it was an emergency, and that he always knocked before coming in for any reason, and that everyone in the household did the same. It made sure everybody could have their own little space. Jon remembered the last place they'd had. They'd all been living in a house intended for just one, which meant the rooms didn't all come with doors. Arguments had been much more frequent. It was why Jon had done a little bit of pestering on his family's side - and he did hate asking them for money since he didn't want to seem spoilt - and bought them a bigger house. It wasn't too big. It wasn't too small. It was just about big enough, and that was perfect.  
And because it was big enough for privacy, it was big enough for Jon's window to be rather big too. Big enough to look in if one were, say, right next door with a window the other way.  
If Jon were to leave something there, amongst his tiny window-garden on the sill, Matt might see it. That wouldn't be his fault.

The next time Mark went out shopping, dragging Eduardo along to help him carry stuff, Jon put his plan into action. With an artist's notebook and a thick black marker, he left his first little note on the windowsill for Matt. 

"Hi! Hope you get well soon! -Jon."

It wasn't much, but he hoped it was enough.

The next day, he found out it was.

He woke up, went to water the plants on his windowsill, and there across the fence, in Matt's window, was a notebook that was a bit smaller than his, open onto a page, written on in the familiar scratchy way of a biro pen running out of ink.

"Hello! Better than I was yesterday but still not quite right. - Matt x"

Jon felt an immediate rush of joy (and he could picture the way Mark's eyes would roll at him as he said 'When don't you?') and couldn't help a smile, reaching for his own notebook with excitedly fumbling hands, ripping out the old page and setting it aside to write a new one.

"I'm glad! Stay hydrated, it should help!"

This was good, this was progress, this was--

...the most they'd ever spoken. Every bone in Jon's body might be screeching at him in pure delight, but the rational part of Jon's mind knew that wouldn't do at all if he wanted to get to know Matt better. He'd just come off as creepy, which would lead to suspicion, which might lead to Matt closing the blinds, which would mean no more pretty pictures! No, if he wanted to do this right, he had to keep it indirect.

For the next few days, then, he wouldn't write messages. Even if he wanted to, and goodness, he did, he had to make it seem as though it was a one-off gesture. Matt got better soon after, which meant less of him in his room, which had Jon quite conflicted because yes, he was glad Matt was better, but he was a tad bit disappointed he couldn't see him there so much. Still, Matt being better meant enough time had passed, probably, for Jon to write another note. Just one. Once again, he grabbed his notebook and his marker, and left a note for Matt.

"Glad to see you're looking better! Being cooped up in your room for days doesn't suit you - Jon :)"

Okay, perhaps the extra comment was toeing the line just a little bit, but if he kept it short, he'd never get anywhere. He was just being honest! Matt looked best when he'd been outside, where the sun had been able to bring out his freckles a bit, and he'd been left beaming from an adventure with his friends. Someday, Jon thought perhaps he'd get an invitation to come along, but that was wishful thinking. Besides, he'd been on a few adventures himself without an invite, with Mark and Eduardo, and that hadn't been too bad!

It was still indirect enough.

He hadn't known what that one extra comment would cause.

He'd known Matt liked to know he was wanted - didn't everybody? - but this was far from what he'd expected. Instead of a short, polite reply, he got something a lot more long-winded, a tale regarding Matt's ancestor being an adventurer and a prince, and then about the time he time-travelled to the future and BECAME a prince, and so of course why would being cooped away suit him? It explained so much about Matt! No wonder he seemed so regal, he WAS basically royalty! So of course, Jon responded in kind - he knew his own ancestor was a measly little bandit, but well, an eye for an eye never hurt anybody, at least when it came to ancestral stories. He hadn't done anything nearly as impressive as Matt had, but that didn't bother him.

He felt more like a friend already.

The next time they exchanged notes, there was one vital change.

As always, Jon settled with his notepad and his marker, watered his plants, then began his message of the evening, a simple 'The weather's been lovely today!' to let him know he still thought of him in the absence of any fun story to tell, but when he went to put it against the window, he met the eyes of the ginger in question, sitting on the windowsill just like him, notepad in hand just like him, looking fondly at him like he knew Jon hadn't noticed him beforehand. Like he'd been waiting.

Jon felt his heart leap at the not-unwelcome surprise, and upon realising he might have jumped for all to see, and by all he meant Matt, he settled into a calmer posture and gave the kind of wave that would probably be accompanied by a little bell noise, if his life were a cartoon or some other thing that would mean sound effects. He let his eyes wander down in an effort to not stare directly into Matt's, knowing if he did he might forget to blink a few times, as he sometimes did, and noted the notepad that he held...they'd thought of the same thing. He couldn't help a smile at that. That just meant they were absolutely meant to be. They had to be, right?

Eduardo always told him he crushed too easily, but Jon was sure this was nothing like those times.  
This was not the way he had felt when it came to Tracy, or Pip, or Victoria, or Nikki, or Josh, or Oliver, or the OTHER Matthew, or even Christopher.  
This made him feel...crazier.

Not straightjacket, asylum, frothing-at-the-mouth crazy, but perhaps the sort of crazy that could drive someone to do silly, unreasonable, amazing things.  
Perhaps this was the kind of crazy he needed, Jon thought, just a little something to brighten up his already-bright world, a spark to set a fire.

Maybe, just this once, he could afford to be a little more direct.


End file.
